Cunning & Courage
by aloneread1
Summary: The title of Hermione's memoir disturbs the entire Wizarding Community. Especially one, particular Wizard.
1. Chapter 1

+ONE

Hermione clicked her tongue as the quill dropped onto her desk as though it were annoyed as she was. Whatever had persuaded her to write a memoir, she had no idea. Who would want to read Hermione Granger's story of the war?

Apparently every muggleborn and half-blood between the ages of eleven and twenty three. She pulled her wand from the matted bunch of curls perched atop her head. Wordlessly shooting a spell to fetch tea and stop the kettle from whistling, Ginny would be here in three hours- for lunch- and she was nowhere near the deadline she'd set herself. In fact, she was nowhere near any deadline at all. She had made a whole scroll's worth of attempts, at least half another of promising starts...but it all added to nothing. Frustrated she hurled her wand into the chair full of cushions.

An irate meow had her scooping her mangled and old cat from the pile of cushions and reworn robes. They both were in need of fresh air, she decided, as he wriggled out of her arms. It was a golden morning: the sun blooming just beyond the valley. Her little cottage was secluded and perfectly suited for her. She remembered a morning, very _unlike_ this one, where Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Luna had helped her move into it. It had been pouring rain, and the boys huddled near the hearth while Luna brewed them all tea (something-or-other was living in her new stove, supposedly).

"You know we all think he's an arse, right?" Ginny leaned against the door frame opposite her.

She and Ron had been happy; a couple everyone adored and celebrated with. Everything had been going well. But then the nightmares, and the flashbacks returned a year to the day it was all over. They were _all_ broken again. Too many beloved people were gone; Teddy's bubblegum pink hair and tender personality reminded her painfully. Harry had held the squirming child on his hip while talking low and seriously as Teddy's attention drifted. Ron had squeezed her hand painfully as they watched Harry stiffen when the question they'd all knew was inevitable was asked. Even from the distance, Hermione knew Teddy was asking the same question Harry once had of his aunt and uncle.

Teddy wiped with chubby fingers at his godfather's eyes. She welcomed Teddy into her arms to give Harry a moment; parting ways with Ron who joined his family at Fred's headstone.

She had felt a hand, like the cool grip of a grindylow, wrap around her shoulder. It was familiar and brought her back to damp, frigid woods. To loneliness one only knows as they watch their best friend self-destruct, leaving you in a world where you feel isolated and unwanted.

After the wounds reopened, she and Ron were never the same.

They never spoke about her parents. They never spoke about Fred. How could they? They never talked about what he did when he left. They never brought up what happened while her and Harry were hunting horcruxes.

On the Third anniversary, things went to shit. Ron came back from the pub late. He made a comment about her brain taking up too much space for emotion. She remarked he never had any feelings for anyone but himself.

It was the beginning of the end. They alternately screamed at and held each other until there was nothing left to be said; and what had been said was fraying at the edges. They'd worn each other out. And so when he asked her to leave, she did.

And it had been raining. And no one had known what to say. Except Ginny. And Luna.

"She's right," Luna piped up, as if they hadn't been across the room. "Ronald Weasley is really a douche-bag. That's what muggles say, right Harry?"

Harry and Ginny laughed till tears came, and Hermione opened her eyes, realizing she liked her new home...

Teddy had started showing magic there. Mr. Weasley heard about his new promotion in the very spot she was standing. Harry had asked Ginny to marry him there, twice (not counting when he'd been drinking). Her home had become a new headquarters for old friends. Even Ron found himself comfortable there when it became appropriate to try for friendship again. On the fifth anniversary Rita Skeeter announced the impending memoir of "Hermione Granger, witch, scholar, and hero extraordinaire". Only after being threatened by Neville AND Harry did the witch admit she'd run into Luna Lovegood traveling abroad for The Quibbler, who had mentioned off-hand what Hermione had been asked by the ministry.

"I don't see why you're so upset," Luna had said, managing charm even through Hermione's temper and the floo. "You were always smart in school. I just assumed you'd say yes."

Neville and Ron, of course, were on her side. Until. Until Harry said she should do it. Then not one Weasley took her point of view.

So here she was, only a month away from her publishing date without a manuscript.

Ginny was working on her third shot of firewhiskey while Hermione fretted between her chow mein and the section in front of her. Ginny convinced her that no one would care about "the exposition" (what she called "the little kid stuff") and only wanted to know about the war.

"But when did the war begin?" She said, highlighting another passage she might be able to salvage. Might.

"Where it began." Ginny rolled her eyes.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think it's that straightforward. Was the first war ever over to begin with?"

"-Yes." Ginny groaned.

"Or did it start with the philosopher's stone?"

"The what?"

"-Sorcerers. It was probably fourth year, if anything...Poor Cedric."

"Pooooooor Hermione's virginity taken by Viktor Krum."

Hermione flung a piece of cabbage at her friend. "You're not helping. And you know very well Ron was my first."

"I try to forget knowing that at all, actually." Ginny flicked it into the floo.

Despite Ginny's intentions to be encouraging, all she managed was to frustrate her. Which helped her to be more convicted and decisive. Which of course, Ginny had interpreted as a victory.

"You'll be through with it soon. The Hermione Granger I know never turned in an assignment late."

This is my first Dramione/ any HP FF ever, so it may take a couple chapters to get to the smoochy stuff ;)

I have a bit of establishing to do, more for my benefit than anyone else's I'm sure haha.

RnR, ideas etc welcomed :)


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

It was a Thursday afternoon when Hermione managed to make it out of her cottage. After locking the door both the muggle and wizard way, she walked down her road in her worn brown cloak, and button boots. The gravel shifting under her feet sent rabbits and quail into the bushes. She smiled to herself. It was exactly what she had wanted, her little home. Away from prying questions and loud noises. And of course, like something out of a fairy tale.

When Hermione was a little girl, it had been her dearest wish to have a fairy godmother or to be granted even three wishes. It didn't take long for her to find that she, quite literally, would have to make her own magic happen. Seven years after receiving her wand, she was finding that even wizard's fairy tale's had grim beginnings. And after her happily ever after fizzled into nothing, she took the rest in her own hands. She didn't care what the world thought.

Much.

The ministry was bustling and full of smells as usual. Noises of people rushing, floos flashing, and memos zipping from department to department. Owls perched like pigeons in the rafters, occasionally swooping among the crowd after someone's forgotten pasty or chips. Despite her now frequent visits to Harry and Ron, she was still always intimidated by the place. People were always groomed to perfection, all blunt edges and shining tips. She, on the other hand, had given up even the slightest hope of manageable waves after the war. Others seemed to have turned to diamonds under pressure.

On cue, Pansy Parkinson, clad in frightful shades of Magenta, Teal, and Lime caught onto her lift. Hermione thanked heaven she thought to wear her hat with the wide brim and innocuously floppy point. Her manuscript shifted under her clammy fingers as Pansy gave a careful cough. In the moments of silence, save a few fidgeting paper planes, Pansy pruned her features in a mirror. She was about to reach for it again when the lift halted suddenly, and a tall, red-headed figure popped in.

"Mornin' Parkinson." George said with a look that knew his friendliness was still taboo to her.

The woman grunted and her earrings jingled hello.

"Mione?" She slumped. Trust a Weasley to find their friends. "Merlin's cheeks, I almost missed you! What'n the hell are you wearing?"

Pansy seemed to notice another person in the lift for the first time, and her cut glance over her shoulder did nothing to bolster Hermione's confidence.

"Morning, George. Didn't have time- manuscript's late." She mumbled.

"This it, then? Hermione Granger's So Called Life: A Memoir in thirteen installments?" George teased.

"No," She said, swallowing the vulnerable feeling she got by discussing it in front of Pansy. It hadn't exactly been a labor of love, but all the same it felt like her child. And that child was newly born, still dewy with her own blood. "It's not perfect, but it's something."

George took the proffered packet, excitedly opening the blue flap, and pausing at the title. Pansy must've sensed a change in the air too, as she curiously shifted her posture.

"Hermione, I-"

"You don't think it's crass, do you?" She rushed. "I couldn't think of a name, and I had to pick something before handing it over so-"

"It's perfect, Granger. Fred would've loved it." He said with a genuine tilt to his lips. "Brightest witch of our age, indeed..." He shook his head, handing it back to her. "This is my stop, kiddo. Stop bye tonight and tell us how it goes, eh?"

Popping out of the lift, the air thickened. Both women remained in their respective corners, but now Hermione's anonymity was ruined.

"I suppose I should congratulate you," Her bob swayed. "I'm sure your fans will be delighted."

Hermione flinched. Before undertaking the project now in her palms, the ministry had approached her with the task of helping to integrate equality and peace amongst the wizarding population. Though hesitant, she agreed to speaking to the students at Hogwarts whenever an assembly was thought up, and agreed to take a place on the peace committee, but not in the foreground that Kingsley and Harry had hoped. Nevertheless, Hogwarts students were inspired by her and it wasn't long until she was coerced into writing articles in the Daily Prophet that focused on recapping and translating the Peace Committee's aims. That of course, was what started the demand for her to write something like this in the first place.

She knew her mini successors were the rabid sort she was when in school, and cringed at the publicity she now so ardently avoided. She also knew that while the vast majority of people on "her side" were proud of her, that there was an opposite reaction from the exact type that Pansy Parkinson would've belonged too.

Embarrassed, she finally said a curt thank you.

"You might flash me a glimpse inside the front cover, " teased Pansy unkindly. "After that display from George Weasley. It must be an extraordinary title to put a Weasley in their place."

Hermione knew Pansy to be the type to say anything for a reaction regardless of whether or not she meant it. She also knew she was, to this day, an incurable gossip with a ravenous appetite. Hermione made up her mind and smiled tartly. "Of course. It's only a working title. We might change it..."

The lift dinged and several memos took off before Pansy left looking a few shades paler than her carefully applied foundation.

...

Well! Part Two! still trying to figure out FF format -.- long time reader, rarely an author on this site :) as always, RR- and a big thank you for all who are already following this story along!


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